Disclaimer: Don't own Final Fantasy VII, or Vincent, or Tifa, or any of the other Final Fantasy VII characters. Just inserting them into the machine of my imagination and watching what pops out.

Destination: Falling In, Falling Out

by: thelittletree

(Thanks for reviews! That's all I really have to say!)

"We can draw lessons from the past, but we cannot live in it." -- Lyndon B. Johnson (1908 - 1973)

Dinner was brief and unremarkable. Tifa spent most of it talking to Nanaki, who had shown up more for the company than for the meal. And when he retired, she sat and talked with Shera and Yuffie about their recent histories while they picked over dessert. Barret, she noticed in both some relief and regret, avoided her completely. Not long after the meal, he was up and out of the room with a mumbled excuse about Marlene.

Cloud didn't show up at all, not once glimpse of him. And Tifa, try as she might, could not entirely believe her own lies. She was disappointed, a little. But sort of grateful to him for respecting her wishes. He'd always done whatever he'd wanted before; she couldn't help wondering, as the evening wore on, where he was at certain moments -- and how the years might have changed him.

There had been a large hole in him the last time she'd seen him. A hole she'd spent years trying to fill, until she'd almost broken herself trying to fit. A hole, Vincent had made her realize somewhere along the way, that had nothing to do with finding the right person. And everything to do with finding yourself.

Nine o'clock came quickly enough in the right company. Yuffie had taken off earlier for a jog before bed so that Shera was the only one waiting with her. At nine-oh-five, they were waiting outside in the evening air, pointing out constellations. At nine-ten, they were beginning to pull their clothing closer as the cool wind began to raise goosebumps. And at quarter after, Tifa was starting to get a little worried.

"I told him nine," she muttered, brushing gently at a crabapple blossom that was trying to land in her hair. "I can't remember the last time he was late like this."

Shera was smiling a little as she adjusted her glasses. "They've probably just lost track of time. Cid's about as un-punctual as they come."

Tifa shrugged a little with a curl of her lip, but found it hard to believe that Vincent might've let himself get so involved that he'd forgotten about what he'd said. It wasn't like him.

"Do you want me to walk you back to your hotel?"

Tifa smiled at the offer, but shook her head. "I'll wait around for another few minutes, just in case. He might be on his way, and I'd rather meet him here than back at the room." She swept a couple of stray strands of hair behind an ear before continuing with a grin. "Because if I get to the room and have to wait around before locking the door to go to sleep, I'll be plenty unhappy."

Shera glanced around momentarily, but Tifa didn't miss the quick glance she gave her watch. "Well, I'll wait with you, if you want to wait."

"No, you go." No sense in them both wasting their time. "It's fine. I'm sure he won't be too long." And that way, she realized, if he was still with Cid, Shera could 'gently' remind him that she was waiting for him.

"All right, if you're sure."

"I'm sure. Thanks anyway, Shera."

Shera smiled at her and touched her arm before starting off down the flagstone path that led to the sidewalk, her soft heeled shoes clacking quietly into the silence until she was out of range.

This was a fairly new part of North Corel, Shera had told her -- not very many residences in the area, and because there were only a few community buildings here, with no parks or schools nearby, not many people had cause to be in this section of town. So it wasn't so strange when she spent five more minutes standing in near silence, trying to pay more attention to the uniformly manicured agriculture around her than to the minutes passing.

What was strange was the sudden approach of a figure from around the building at her back, someone who was definitely not Vincent.

"Tifa?"

Someone whose voice she would recognize anywhere, even if she put all her will into trying to forget it. She turned to him and stared at his silhouette in the darkness until he was close enough to fall under the proximity light of the building. Only then could she seem to make herself turn away. It had been a long time. A very long time.

"Cloud." She swallowed the uncomfortable vibrating tension that was trying to make her voice tremble. "What are you doing here? I thought Barret would tell you I didn't want to talk."

Without looking at him, she could still map out his stance, the steady grimness of his expression that had always made his smiles that much more beautiful. Like Vincent, she remembered, in the beginning. Though Vincent was no longer so grim for her. Despite the fact that she'd technically known Cloud longer, she realized suddenly, she knew Vincent far better.

"Do you want me to go?"

It had always been a kind of manipulation with him, she remembered with a pang of hurt. There had been a strange rhythm of hate and compulsive need that had made the relationship so hard to break, despite its destructiveness.

"Yes, I want you to go." But her voice was small, not at all convincing.

"You mean Vincent wants me to go." There was a bitter pain in his words that tore at her, even if she'd told herself again and again that it wasn't her job to make everyone happy. She sensed his movement as he lifted a hand into his hair, such a familiar gesture of insecure frustration that a part of her longed to comfort him somehow. "Okay then, I'll go. I don't want to do anything that might hurt you."

There was a moment of silence, one Cloud didn't use to turn around and walk away.

"You believe me, don't you, Tifa?"

She took a breath and felt unexpected tears prick her eyes. Feeling desperate for some sort of rescue, she sent a futile plea to any listening deities, hoping Vincent would choose this moment to show up. Because a moment more, and she knew she might start hoping he stayed away long enough for her to give Cloud whatever he needed from her so that this whole messy business could fall behind her.

"Tifa?"

She resisted the urge to wipe her eyes. "I don't know," she admitted to him, trying to keep her voice steady and sure.

"Because I don't want to hurt you, ever again." She sensed movement from him again, and fought against the urge to fidget or step away as he came a little closer. "Don't be afraid of me, Tifa. I just want to make things right between us. You..." He paused a moment, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him lower his head. "You were always the closest person to me. You knew me better than anyone; you knew what I needed when I didn't even know."

His voice was starting to crack and she was listening hard. He'd only ever cried once in front of her, when Aeris had died. And those had been silent tears, full of guilt and self-loathing.

"You were so strong, and I was so selfish. I...I nearly killed you."

This wasn't the time for apologies. They'd both said their apologies long ago, before she'd suspected a second time that it wouldn't work. Before she'd finally allowed herself to fall for Vincent.

"I'm so sorry."

But the words still made her cry. She bit her bottom lip and resisted the urge to look at her past lover -- the boy inside the man, who had occupied so many of her thoughts for so long. And collected herself enough to speak. "We've both said 'I'm sorry' before," she told him, giving up on the vain attempt to sound as if she wasn't inches from breaking down. "It doesn't change anything. We've got separate lives now, we should just go about living them..."

"I can't, Tifa."

She met his eyes, only for a second, and instantly regretted it. Unearthly blue irises bright with a reckless hope, expression shadowed by something she imagined followed him into his nightmares.

"I can't go about living. I've tried. I...I don't fit anywhere anymore. Without you..." His voice cracked and his next breath was almost a quiet sob. "Fuck, God," he muttered breathlessly, wiping at his eyes. "Without you, I'm nobody at all. I don't have a past, a present, a future. I don't have anything..."

She couldn't help looking at him this time, and then she was crying. "Cloud..."

"God, something's wrong with me, Tifa. Please, don't shut me out. You're all I have."

Her hand was suddenly in his, at his cheek, she realized. And he was kissing her fingers. And all she could do was cry. Oh God, she'd left him like this.

But Vincent, oh Vincent.

Oh. Vincent.

He wasn't that far away -- she could recognize that it was him. Hair tied back in his haphazard way, what was presumably her jacket over his arm to protect her against the night air as they walked back to the hotel.

But far enough away that she wasn't sure if he might've heard anything. Though the picture of Cloud holding her hand, kissing her hand, her crying and half turned toward him -- that he probably saw with infinitely painful clarity.

Her tears were suddenly cold. She jerked her hand out of Cloud's, feeling as guilty as if they'd been caught kissing passionately. And then, stiff and trembling, and with only one glance at Cloud that told her he also saw Vincent watching them, she began to walk up the flagstone path.

He held out her coat for her when she arrived beside him, but he didn't look at her and he didn't wait for her to put it on. He just walked away and left her to follow. And follow she did, without a glance behind, feeling miserable and drained and unjustifiably angry at his back.

It wasn't until they were almost there, Vincent nearly on the stairs to the lobby door, that he finally stopped for her. And only because she stumbled with a small cry that made him jerk around to her with his arms outstretched.

"I'm all right," she croaked, upset at the tears in her voice. "Just a crack in the sidewalk."

He waited for her to climb the stairs, and then opened the door to the room for her. She was removing her coat, trying to think of something to say to him, when she realized that he wasn't coming inside. She swallowed down a strange lump of fear and turned to look at him in the doorway.

"Where are you going?" she asked him.

They'd fought before. Many times. But through it all, she'd known he still loved her. Still wanted to be with her. Still needed her. Even when they'd separated over the idea of a baby, she'd known in the back of her mind that she could always change her mind and go to Kalm, and be welcomed back into his life.

This time, though, he looked different. Defeated. Hunched in the doorway, not looking at her. Eike, she remembered suddenly. Eike Clarison, Claviston. She still wasn't sure. Kissing Eike on Lily's doorstep. Oh, he'd been so angry and hurt, and it had only been the trembling sexual tension between them that had kept him there in the end. Now, now...

"Go to bed," he told her quietly, and it was like a stranger's voice. And he shut the door on her gaze.

Now she couldn't make him stay. And this wasn't something that would just blow over, or that could be momentarily pushed aside so that they could still eat pancakes together in the morning. He needed to understand. He needed to listen.

She went to bed alone, and the baby roiled inside of her without Vincent behind her.

He came in much later. She woke up as the door opened. Without a word, he went into the bathroom and had a shower. Hunting, she knew. He'd gone hunting, transformed into one of those emotionless creatures that he'd once told her he kept completely separate from himself. Bullshit.

And then he came to bed, curled away from her.

"Vincent?"

No reply. Even his breaths were quieted.

And it was a long time before she fell back to sleep.